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Things I Wish Were In The Bible

"Thy word is a lamp to my feet, and a light to my path"
—Psalm 119:105 (KJV)

As I read my Bible, I remember my writing teacher pacing the tatty, wooden classroom floor. His aged voice croaked, “Details, students. Details! Vivid verbs. Well-chosen words. Show. Don’t tell!” When I read the Bible, I often want to shout at its writers “Details! Details! Details!!”

The meat is there—truth, instruction, prophesy—but so much of it leaves me wondering. So many details lost.

Now, I understand that I can infer by using what I already know and applying contextual clues, but still, I want to know absolutely. (If you read last week’s post, you know that I like “absolutes and certainties.”) I want those writers to compel me into the scenes. I want to see, hear, taste, touch, and smell the happenings through their words.


Take the ark, for example. I want the scribe to provide a cross-reference to a species list. I need to know exactly which animals were on that ark. I want notes from Noah’s journal (if he kept one). I want to know how those animals behaved. What problems occurred? How did Noah solve them? Then there’s Jonah and the “big fish.” What kind of fish? How big exactly? I need a description of the inside of that belly. I want a rich, six-senses narrative. When Jonah prayed to the Lord, did his voice echo inside an empty belly, or was Jonah swimming in . . . well . . . yesterday’s lunch?

How tall was Jesus? What did His voice sound like? How far was Mary and Martha’s house from Lazarus’ tomb? What were the merchants selling in the temple? What foods were spread on the banquet table? How did that huge crowd on the hillside hear Jesus when He taught them? Was it like the “telephone game” with the people in front passing the message to those gathered behind them? And the loaves and fishes. What kind of bread? Was the fish baked, broiled, fried, or (horrors) raw?

Trivia. Yes, I know it’s all trivia. Still, I desire the vivid pictures that words can paint. And then, I think this: God’s purpose is in everything. Too many details might veil the message. Sagacity might be buried in imaginary side trips. A struggling reader, more importantly a new Christian, might find it hard to separate the meat from the details. Perhaps God took pity on the poor scribes who dipped their pens in inkwells again and again writing His inspired words longhand. All good reasons for leaving out the particulars.

The Bible gets down to the real heart of issues. The prophet Jeremiah said, “Then the LORD stretched out His hand and touched my mouth, and the LORD said to me, ‘Behold, I have put My words in your mouth’." (Jeremiah 1:9). And Timothy, in the New Testament, tells us, “All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness.” (2 Timothy 3:16)

"My words". "God-breathed scripture". No matter what we desire, God gives us exactly what we need—and that includes the words in the Bible.

Procrastination—You Don't Have To Know Everything

"Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men."
Colossians 3:23 (ESV)

Art ©Richard Krzemien, The Writer at Work
All Rights Reserved

The Procrastinator’s Poem

I’ve gone for a drink and sharpened pencils,
Searched through my desk for forgotten utensils,
I reset my watch, adjusted my chair,
I’ve loosened my tie and straightened my hair.
I filled my pen and tested my blotter

And gone for another drink of water

Adjusted the calendar, and I’ve raised the blinds

And I’ve sorted erasers of all different kinds.
Now down to work I can finally sit. 

Oops, too late, it’s time to quit.
—Author Unknown

Like the man in the poem, I’m a procrastinator. This is something I’m working on in 2012. My goal is to resist the temptation to procrastinate.

People procrastinate for different reasons. Some are lazy, and others just put things off because they don’t have time.

An incident from the American Revolution illustrates what tragedy can result from procrastination. It is reported that Colonel Rahl, commander of the British troops in Trenton, New Jersey, was playing cards when a courier brought an urgent message stating that General George Washington was crossing the Delaware River. Rahl put the letter in his pocket and didn't bother to read it until the game was finished. Then, realizing the seriousness of the situation, he hurriedly tried to rally his men to meet the coming attack, but his procrastination was his undoing. He and many of his men were killed and the rest of the regiment were captured.

Nolbert Quayle said, "Only a few minutes' delay cost him his life, his honor, and the liberty of his soldiers. Earth's history is strewn with the wrecks of half-finished plans and unexecuted resolutions. 'Tomorrow' is the excuse of the lazy and refuge of the incompetent."

[Source: Our Daily Bread February 2, 2009.]

When I was an editor at Golden Books, I worked with a wonderful man who acted as a liaison between the Editorial Department and the printer. Wally’s job was to keep everyone on schedule, and his favorite phrase was, “I deal only in absolutes and certainties!”

My problem with procrastination isn’t so much with laziness or time, but rather with absolutes and certainties. Before I start something, I want to have all of the pieces and know exactly how they fit together. I want to know everything. And when that isn’t possible, then the task seems overwhelming. I want to procrastinate.

One day a young man moved into a cave to study with a wise man. He hoped to learn everything there was to know. After giving his student a stack of books, the wise man sprinkled itching powder on his student's hand and left. Every morning the wise man returned to the cave to monitor his student's progress. "Have you learned everything there is to know yet?" the wise man asked.

And every morning his student said, "No, I haven't." Then the wise man would sprinkle itching powder on the student's hand and leave. This was repeated for months. But one day, as the wise man entered the cave the student took the bag of itching powder and tossed it into the fire.

"Congratulations!" said the wise man. "You've graduated. You've learned you don't have to know everything to do something positive. And you've learned how to take control over your life and stop the itching."

[Source: Today in the Word, May 1, 1992.]

Every day, I’m trying to "stop the itching" by following the advice given in 1 Chronicles 28:20: "Be strong and courageous, and do the work. Don’t be afraid or discouraged by the size of the task, for the LORD God, my God, is with you. He will not fail you or forsake you." (NLT)

Whatever the reason for procrastination, it isn’t good. Proverbs 24:30-34 (NIV) says: "I went past the field of a sluggard, past the vineyard of someone who has no sense; thorns had come up everywhere, the ground was covered with weeds, and the stone wall was in ruins. I applied my heart to what I observed and learned a lesson from what I saw: A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest— and poverty will come on you like a thief and scarcity like an armed man."

Are you a procrastinator or have you overcome procrastination? I would love to know your story.

Are You Afraid of the Hodag?

". . .but whoever listens to me will live in safety and be at ease, without fear of harm."
Proverbs 1:33 (NIV)

The Hodag, the unrelenting legend of an illusive beast that prowls the Northwoods. A hideous, hairy animal it is. Seven feet long, three feet high. Ferocious. Dangerous. Grumpy. Its short, strong legs finish in claws, raw and needle sharp. A dozen gleaming, white horns line its backbone. Wicked-looking tusks hang menacingly from its vise-like jaws. With spikes and tusks, the Hodag rubs bark off maples and covers itself with sap. Sticky then, it rolls in fallen leaves making a winsome disguise.

“Beware of that pile of leaves in the woods,” says the storyteller. He points into the darkness past his shoulder. “It might be the Hodag waiting for—YOU!”

We scream. He pours water on the campfire then. Flames sizzle. The orange glow surrounding his face vanishes in a shroud of steam. Reluctantly, we girls retreat to our tents. Brave scouts no more. We slip into sleeping bags, zip them tight, and lay awake worrying about the Hodag. We don’t know when or if it will come, or worse what might happen if it does. We only know that it IS. Somewhere out there the Hodag lurks, and it fills our souls with fear.

Are you afraid of the Hodag? Most of us are. It’s that “something out there,” that something that could harm us, the unknown. For some, the Hodag is fear of loss—of a loved one, our job, our health. For others, it’s a persistent unnamed fear, or fear of fear itself. A Hodag fear can lead to a deathbed confession like this one:

“I’ve had a lot of trouble in my life—most of which never happened!”

There’s only one weapon that can destroy Hodag fear. Faith. Faith first in God’s perfect plan and protection. Faith then in ourselves that we possess enough strength to face our fear with faith.

Think about David in 1 Samuel 17. A gangly teenager with a slingshot and no cladding, he faced Goliath, a fearsome, mocking bully, nine feet tall. The giant, dressed in full armor, harassed and cursed him, but David answered, "You come against me with sword and spear and javelin, but I come against you in the name of the LORD Almighty. . .” (verse 45) Then David struck Goliath. The Hodag fell dead. Faith conquered fear.

In Psalm 112:7-8, David writes about people who are faithful and obedient to God. He says, “They aren't afraid when bad news comes. They stand firm because they trust in the Lord. Their hearts are secure. They aren't afraid. In the end they will see their enemies destroyed.”

In times of trouble believers can find peace knowing that God will deliver them. No matter what the circumstances He is God, our protector, the One who knows the unknown. He is the God who does not change. He is Faith in the face of fear, the Slayer of the Hodag.

Curious about the Wisconsin Hodag legend?
Learn more here.

If You Could Meet Jesus the Man . . .

. . .He came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!” “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”
— Luke 10:38-42 (NIV)

I sometimes daydream about living back when Jesus wore skin. In my imaginings, I’ve slipped into the personas of Gospel characters, disciples, and followers of Christ. I’ve lain in a field, a lowly shepherd guarding my sheep when the angel came down from Heaven. I’ve rested with the Twelve, listening to Jesus speak parables on cool, starry nights with gentle breezes rocking silver leaves on olive trees. When I faced uterine cancer in the present-day world, I became one with the woman who bled and sought healing. I imagined that, like she, I could push through the sea of neediness surrounding Our Lord and ever so dimly touch the hem of His robe. And somehow, I did. I transcended time. He knew my touch, and He healed me in the twenty-first century.

Last night, I asked myself, “If you could choose to be one, just one, who had personal contact with Jesus the Man, whom would you choose?” A question like that deserves pondering. But I didn’t turn it over and over in my head trying to decide which one. I knew. I have always known. If I had to choose, I would be Mary, sister to Martha and Lazarus.

This Mary was Jesus’ close friend. It was she who sat at His feet listening to His words while her sister cooked and swept. It was this Mary who gave Christ her undivided attention and enjoyed the one-on-one intimacy with Him that we Christians have in Spirit.

Mary. Mary of Bethany. What questions did you ask Him? What answers did you receive from this God made Man? While the everyday busyness, the preparation of the table, the sweeping of the hearth, went on without you, what did you learn from Christ’s words? Did He unravel mysteries that we wonder about today? Did He tell you things hidden from the scribes? Did the Rabbi allow you to travel deep into His heart and know Him beyond the Word of God? What secrets did you discover when your souls, those of dear friends, touched?

I want to know. I long to know this flesh and blood Jesus apart from what the Bible tells me. I want to sit at His feet and listen to His every word. On ancient nights, so still, in a small house lit faintly by oil-filled lamps, I ache to whisper questions that no one dares ask. What is in the heart of this living, breathing Jesus? What might we know today that remains hidden because there were not more like Mary who was not upset about many things, but instead chose what was better?

I can only imagine.

If you could be someone who had personal contact with Jesus the Man, whom would you be?

The Cool Side of the Pillow

A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest
—Proverbs 6:10 (NIV)

My German grandmother holds the wicker laundry basket brimming with linen sheets and pillowcases as if embracing a child still in the womb. Without grasping the railings, she descends the steep back staircase from her upper flat, slowly, carefully, left foot, right foot, until she reaches the bottom. There, she props the basket between her stomach and the door. With one hand, her crippled fingers turn the latch counterclockwise and then the doorknob. Lacy edgings spill over the sides of the basket like snow slowly melting and hanging precariously from the eaves. She pushes the door open with her foot. April slips in, aching to rise up the stairs, enter the apartment, and devour the stale, leftover scents of winter. Grandmother steps outside. She sets the basket down and lifts up the worn, gray, cellar doors. Her right hand searches her apron pocket for the old, silver key. She finds it, picks up the basket, three steps down, cement this time, she unlocks and opens the basement door.

An old wringer washing machine sets in the corner next to Lower-Flat-Daughter-in-Law’s “modern” washer and dryer. Casters scrape against concrete as Grandmother rolls the machine next to the sturdy double rinsing tubs. She fills the tubs and the machine with hot water, empties the basket into one vat of the steaming liquid, adds detergent to the machine. She passes the soaked sheets and pillowcases through the wringer and into the old Maytag, then turns it on. The machine rocks gently, agitating the load, washing away seven nights of sleep. A quarter of an hour later, Grandmother stops the machine. She slips each piece of material back through the wringer and into the rinse water. Then, with a wooden broom handle, she swirls the bedding hard through the rinse. Once again, she slides the sheets and pillowcases through the wringer. She loads them into the wicker basket, tosses in a canvas bag filled with wooden clothespins, then goes outside where Daughter-in Law is cleaning the flower beds, admiring tiny green shoots sticking up through the soil. “Mother,” she says. “I wish you would use my washing machine and dryer. The way you do it takes so much extra work.”

Grandmother clips a clean sheet on the clothesline to dry. In her thick German accent, she answers, “It’s the work that makes best for the cool side of the pillow.”

The cool side of the pillow—that amazing sensation of soft, cool linen against your skin. There is something about it that ushers in a sense of peace and wellness with the world. It promotes a fullness of soul and gentle, restful sleep. But, as Grandmother said, a little elbow grease is needed to get that linen smelling fresh and to make it feel clean and new.

Jesus said, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28 NIV) Have you ever thought that Jesus is the cool side of the pillow? The more work we put into our relationships with Him, the more restful our dark nights become. Many of us tend to take our problems to our beds. Isn’t it wonderful to know that we have the option of flipping our pillows over to the cool side, the Jesus side, to find instant refreshment?

Conclusion: I Don’t Know How To Tell You This, But I’m Pregnant

The unfailing love of the LORD never ends! By his mercies we have been kept from complete destruction. Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each day. I say to myself,
"The LORD is my inheritance; therefore, I will hope in him!"
Lamentations 3:22-24 (NASB)

Word spread quickly throughout Bethlehem that the prophecies of Isaiah and Micah had been fulfilled. The truth became known. Mary, the young, unmarried pregnant girl, had not told a lie. She was the one the prophet Isaiah had spoken of when he said, “Therefore the Lord himself shall give you a sign; Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.” (Isaiah 7:14) True to what the prophet Micah had predicted, the child was born in Bethlehem (Micah 5:2). Mary must have felt more at ease now about how others viewed her suspicious pregnancy. Believers came to worship and adore the child, and they recognized that God had chosen Mary to give Him birth.

In another place, God was revealing the next piece of His Christmas puzzle—the star. Contrary to our modern-day interpretation of Christmas symbols, the star was likely a subtle sign and not a bright heavenly body hovering over the stable in Bethlehem. Had it been a glaring white light, the whole countryside would have seen and wondered, but the Bible doesn’t say that. Instead, Magi, wise men from the East, noticed something different in the sky. These men from a powerful, priestly tribe, many miles from Bethlehem, were astronomers, and they determined that this was “His star,” the Messiah. Matthew 2:1-2 tells us: After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the time of King Herod, Magi from the east came to Jerusalem and asked, “Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him.”

The Bible goes on to suggest that King Herod was clueless about the star and also Christ’s birth. He felt threatened when he heard about this King of the Jews, so he called his religious leaders and asked what the scriptures said about the Messiah and the place of His birth. Then Herod sent the Magi to Bethlehem. “Go and search carefully for the child,” he said. “As soon as you find him, report to me, so that I too may go and worship him.” (Matthew 2:8)

The star acted differently then. It appeared to move, and it led the Magi directly to Jesus. They bowed down and worshiped Him. Then they opened their treasures and presented him with gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to go back to Herod, they returned to their country by another route. (Matthew 2:11-12)

Herod felt furious that the Magi had betrayed him. He had just enough information to know the approximate time of Jesus’ birth and where He might be. So, Herod ordered his soldiers to go to Bethlehem and kill all the baby boys ages two and under. This foreshadowed Jesus’ fate. Throughout His life there would be those who wanted to kill Him. But, for now, the young Messiah, King of the Jews, was safe.

Just as an angel was the first piece of God’s Christmas puzzle, so it was the last. An angel appeared in a dream to Joseph and warned him of Herod’s plan. Now, all the pieces of God’s Christmas puzzle were in place. The angel told Joseph to take Mary and Jesus and flee to Egypt and later to Nazareth where they would raise the boy.

Shrouded in the silent simplicity of that first Christmas, God had begun working His mighty plan of salvation. He continues to work that plan today, quietly, piece by piece, out of our sight and apart from our comprehension. As we approach this new year, we can only imagine what 2012 will hold. Like Mary, a young woman, unmarried and pregnant, we go forward in faith, trusting God and believing in His power to lead us and provide for us.

I pray that all of you will have a happy, healthy and prosperous new year.

Part 4: I Don’t Know How To Tell You This, But I’m Pregnant

"For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord."
Luke 2:11 (KJV)

In the depth of night, Mary gave birth to a baby boy—Jesus, the Christ, the Messiah. She wrapped him firmly in swaddling cloth and laid him in a manger. The little town of Bethlehem slept. There was no fanfare, no celebration, only the adoration of two proud surrogates who knew this baby was not their own, but the Son of God. In the darkness, the Lord had gently slipped into Earth’s presence, His spirit resting in the body of an innocent newborn child.

As they gazed at the sleeping baby, Mary and Joseph might have wondered, what now? Was it God’s will that they keep Jesus a secret until He was ready to reveal His plan, or did God want them to tell the world? And who would believe them? Certainly in the stillness of the night, these young parents prayed and asked Heaven for guidance. As they prayed, God revealed the next piece of His Christmas puzzle. We find it in Luke 2: 8-18.

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.” So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them.

Mary and Joseph had received a quick answer to prayer. God planned for shepherds to deliver the news that Christ, the Messiah, was born in Bethlehem.

Why shepherds? For the same reason that the Son of God was born in a simple and modest setting—humility. Christ came into this world not as a rich and mighty king, but instead poor and needy. He came for those who, like shepherds, had many responsibilities but few resources. He came to redeem not only the poor shepherds of the world, but also the world’s lost sheep. Everything about that first Christmas was clothed in humility. That night began the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy about Jesus the Messiah:

“The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoner and recovery of sight for the blind, 
to set the oppressed free . . .” Jesus had come for the poor in spirit, to open their eyes to salvation and to set them free from Satan’s lair.

Luke writes, “Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.” Surely, now she understood that she and Joseph had been right to take the high road, that it was God’s plan for His Son to be born among animals and laid in a manger. It was God’s plan for poor shepherds to be the first to come, honor Him, and share the Good News.

Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.

These days as you shop for last-minute Christmas gifts, wrap presents, and prepare to celebrate the holiday with family and friends, do you ponder the events of that first Christmas night in Bethlehem? Do you treasure them in your heart?

Part 3: I Don’t Know How To Tell You This, But I’m Pregnant

“And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.” Luke 2:7 (KJV)

The Bible provides us with a simple outline of the Christmas story, but it leaves the details to our imaginations. Perhaps, as I suggested in my last post, Joseph chose the high road: the shortest route, the road more difficult to travel. Maybe he borrowed a donkey for Mary to ride. We don’t know. But let’s continue to imagine what might have been.

As they walked the dusty road, steep hills and low valleys, did Mary and Joseph share their worries aloud, or did they travel silently, feigning that their faith in God was solid? They were human, after all. And humans doubt. Did Mary wonder, have we done the right thing? Surely, God wouldn’t want His son born in a small and ordinary town. Certainly, He would want Him to enter the world in a place fit for a king. There was nothing kingly about Bethlehem.

When they arrived there, the place teemed with travelers who, like Mary and Joseph, had come to be counted. Where would the young couple stay? Did they have relatives in Bethlehem? If so, would they want Mary in their home, a woman who had become pregnant before marriage? We can only imagine the thoughts that Mary was thinking as she and Joseph wandered through the city among the crowds.

The Bible says that there was no room for them in the inn. Bible scholars translate this in different ways, but the consensus is that there was no space for them in the guest room. Whose guest room? It doesn’t matter. Wherever they went in Bethlehem, whether to family, friends, or a traditional inn, there was no space for them to stay. So they found lodging in an area where animals were kept, a place with a manger. And this place was the next piece of God’s Christmas puzzle. Christ the Savior was to be born in the simplest of settings, and his bed would be a lowly manger.

As Mary and Joseph waited, hours or days, for the child to be born, did they doubt that they were in the right place, that they had done the right thing according to God’s will? They were in a stable and not in a palace or a temple fit for the birth of the King.

There is that old adage that goes, “God works in mysterious ways.” Usually, those ways are not what we expect. God moves easily and quietly, assembling the pieces of His plan in ways that we cannot understand. That first Christmas in Bethlehem was set in simplicity, and not grandeur. Yet, God was there—fully, totally, completely.

O, little town of Bethlehem
How still we see thee lie
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep
The silent stars go by
Yet in they dark streets shineth
The everlasting light . . .

Mary, did you know?

Is your Christmas set in the stillness of simplicity, or are you trying to make it fit for a king?

Part 2: I Don’t Know How To Tell You This, But I’m Pregnant

“The Sovereign Lord is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
he enables me to go on the heights.”
Habakkuk 3:19 (NIV)

Our story continues with Mary and Joseph going on with their lives, preparing a home for the child. Sometimes, Mary rests from her work, places both hands on her belly, takes pleasure in feeling the baby move and kick inside of her. Her pregnancy has been routine, uneventful. But now, in the eighth or ninth month, God reveals another piece of His Christmas puzzle. Without warning, the Romans call a census of all Jews. Mary and Joseph, members of the tribe of Judah, must travel to Bethlehem to be counted. They must go immediately. There is no waiting, no reprieve. The Bible doesn’t tell us much about what happens next, but let’s imagine.

“We should leave early tomorrow morning,” Joseph tells his very pregnant wife.

“But it is too near the time for the child to be born,” Mary answers.

Neither of them says it, but they know. It will be next to impossible for Mary to complete the journey without giving birth along the way. Surely they are worried. Do they hide this from one another, hoping to give each other strength? They trust the Lord, but they are human. And humans worry.

Joseph has to make a tough choice—which route to travel. The easiest, through the plains, is also the longest. Certainly, Mary will give birth along the way. Joseph wonders, is this what God wants? An old trading route provides the shortest way. But it winds for 70 miles through the rocky highlands. Mary will have to travel on uneven ground, up and down hills. Impossible, Joseph says to himself. But nothing is impossible with God. His still, small voice echoes in Joseph’s heart. “Take the highlands. Walk where you most fear to tread.” With some reservation, Joseph chooses to follow God instead of his own human judgment. If God wants them to take the roughest route, then that is what they must do. Again, Joseph trusts in the words of Jeremiah 29:11. He believes that God has a plan to prosper and not harm them.

How does Mary react to Joseph’s decision? Do the words of the scriptures enter her mind?

Although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines; the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls: Yet I will rejoice in the LORD, I will find joy in the God of my salvation. The LORD God is my strength, and he will make my feet like hinds' feet, and he will make me to walk upon mine high places. Habakkuk 3:17-19

We can only imagine what happens next, but we do know this: Mary and Joseph made it to Bethlehem. They made it in God’s time and in accordance to His will.

In life, God sometimes leads us to take the roughest route, one rife with rocky hills and deep valleys. We might ask why. Why not the easiest way? But we remember that it was in the rocky hills that God gave Moses His Ten Commandments. It was in the hills that Abraham offered sacrifices to God, and Jacob dreamed of angels climbing a ladder to Heaven. In the hills we find God, like a Good Shepherd, leading our way. In the hills, we grow stronger in our will to make the journey as we learn to put our faith and trust in Him.

When Mary and Joseph left the next morning, they might have offered this prayer, these words from Psalm 121:

I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth.

Amen.

Part 1: I Don’t Know How To Tell You This, But I’m Pregnant

Now the birth of Jesus Christ was as follows: when His mother Mary had been betrothed to Joseph, before they came together she was found to be with child by the Holy Spirit.
Matthew 1:18 (NASB)

Can you imagine Joseph’s reaction when Mary told him that she was pregnant? He knew that the baby wasn’t his, and her explanation seemed unbelievable. What? She had become pregnant by the Holy Spirit and would give birth to the Son of God? And an angel told her this? The Bible suggests in Matthew 1:18-19 that Joseph didn’t believe any of it. “And Joseph . . . being a righteous man and not wanting to disgrace her, planned to send her away secretly.” (NASB) Joseph had other options. He could lie and say that he was the father, but this would humiliate them both and break God’s ninth commandment: you shall not bear false witness. He could accuse Mary of unfaithfulness and embarrass her. According to Jewish law, he could even have her stoned for being unfaithful. But the Bible tells us that Joseph was a righteous man. And he was a caring man, too. He didn’t want his fiancé embarrassed by her unexpected pregnancy, and also he didn’t want to accuse her of unfaithfulness and begin a flood of gossip. After all, the Old Testament taught, “He who goes about as a talebearer reveals secrets, but he who is trustworthy conceals a matter.” (Proverbs 11:13 NASB) Joseph was a righteous and God-fearing man. He decided to suffer silently, believing that Mary had betrayed him. He planned to quietly send her away.

Meanwhile, God was putting together the pieces of the Christmas puzzle, and the next piece was to confirm to Joseph that Mary had been truthful. Matthew 1:20-21 (NASB) tells us, “But when [Joseph] had considered [sending Mary away] an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife; for the Child who has been conceived in her is of the Holy Spirit. She will bear a Son; and you shall call His name Jesus, for He will save His people from their sins.”

So, Joseph scrapped his plan, obeyed God, and did as the angel had told him. He took Mary as his wife, and he kept her a virgin until she gave birth to Jesus. (Matthew 1:24-25) What did people say when they found out that Mary was several months pregnant? Did they gossip and humiliate her? The Bible doesn’t tell us. What we do know is that Joseph stuck by her and supported her pregnancy because not only did he trust her, but he trusted God.

When you think about it, the beginning of the Christmas story is all about trust. Without hesitation, Mary trusted that the angel Gabriel had told her the truth. Joseph didn’t believe her, which must have hurt, but she continued to trust that God was working out His plan through her. After God's angel spoke to Joseph, he stopped struggling with his decision and immediately put his trust in God and also in Mary’s truthfulness.

As this month of Christmas begins, how well do you trust God? Do you believe, as Jeremiah 29:11 tells us, that He has a plan to prosper you and not to harm you, a plan to give you hope and a future?

What Number Is Your Turkey?

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication
with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.
Philippians 4:6 ESV

(Reposted from Thanksgiving 2009)

My mother was the official turkey maker for our Thanksgiving dinners. Every year, Mom would fret about cooking the turkey, and Dad would answer by telling her how many turkeys she had cooked through the years. "We've been married 27 years, and you've made 27 turkeys. It'll be fine"….."We've been married 40 years, and you've made 40 turkeys. It'll be fine." It was the same conversation each Thanksgiving, and the turkey was always fine.

I confess, that I was somewhat annoyed by their annual exchange. Sometimes when we're young, we miss the significance of the little things – those little exchanges that couples have again and again.

Mom was a worrier, and I'm sure that she prayed to God each time she put a turkey into the oven. She read her Bible daily, and Philippians 4:6 was a verse that she liked to quote: Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. "Dear God, thank you for this turkey. Now, please help me to cook it just right so it won't turn out dry. Amen."

Mom checked the bird often. She tested it for brownness and juiciness, and when it was finally done and presented to the table she always said, "I hope that it's okay." That's when Dad would chime in and announce the annual turkey number and proclaim that the bird was fine.

The last turkey was number 57. We didn't know that it would be the last. A few months after Thanksgiving, Mom became suddenly ill and died. That same year, Dad went into a nursing home.

Dad had dementia that progressed rapidly after he lost his wife. He no longer remembered the number of turkeys that Mom had cooked through the years, but he remembered Mom. As time went on, he forgot that I was his daughter. I became Betty, his wife. I looked like her and I sounded like her, and that, I think, was a comfort to my dad. In his mind, his beloved wife was still with him, and although I wished that he'd remember me, I played along. I was Betty.

On each of the nine Thanksgivings that Dad was in the nursing home, I cooked our traditional Thanksgiving dinner at home, packed it up, and took it there to share with him. Like my mother, I fretted about the turkey and wondered if it would be done enough or if I had overcooked it and it would be dry. The nursing home staff always prepared a private dining room where Dad and I could sit together and eat our Thanksgiving meal. In Dad's mind, he was home. "I hope the turkey's okay," I found myself saying as I presented Dad with a steaming plate of food. I half expected him to answer that this was turkey number 58 and it would be fine, but he didn't. I fed him the turkey because he was no longer able to feed himself. He said that it was good. Gone was the traditional exchange between my parents. Lost was the annual turkey count. But we went on sharing our Thanksgiving meals, father and daughter together, until he died.

1 Thessalonians 5:18 says, "Give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." This year, I'm thankful for all the Thanksgiving turkeys that I shared with my Mom in joyful holiday fellowship. I'm equally thankful for the additional Thanksgivings that I had with my dad. Although the circumstances were sad, and grew more difficult with each passing year, we had each other. I'm most thankful for memories of the little things: my mom and dad bickering about the turkey and the wonderful smell of it roasting in the oven when I walked through the door. It was those little things that reminded me that I was home…and everything was fine.

Dear Lord: On this Thanksgiving Day, we give thanks to you for family, home, and for the sweet remembrance of Thanksgivings gone by. In Jesus' name we pray, Amen.


What number is your turkey? I wish you, my readers, a blessed holiday filled with little things that become cherished memories...and most of all, I wish you a turkey that turns out fine!

Thanksgiving 1963 -- Lee Harvey Oswald

"Live as free people, but do not use your freedom as an excuse to do evil.
Live as servants of God."
1 Peter 2:16

I climbed out of bed that morning, November 24, 1963, savoring the steamy aroma of a fat, stuffed turkey roasting in the oven. As I stumbled into the kitchen rubbing the sleep from my eyes, Mom was busy making cranberry sauce. Dad was sharpening the knife he always used to carve our Thanksgiving turkey. Their attention focused on a small, portable, black-and-white television set, its “rabbit ears” antenna tilted toward the steam-fogged kitchen windows. On the screen a fuzzy image of Walter Cronkite re-told the events since President Kennedy’s assassination two days before. Guilt contributed to our silence that Sunday morning. We had skipped church, the place where most Americans sought comfort following one of the darkest days in our country’s history.

We were having our Thanksgiving meal four days early because my grandmother planned to travel to Quantico, Virginia to spend Thanksgiving Day with my mother's sister. No one felt like celebrating. Our President was dead, shot by Lee Harvey Oswald who took aim from a window in a schoolbook depository in Dallas and twisted our lives into a tangled mass of confusion and fear.

As I set the table later that morning, and Grandma arrived with homemade pumpkin pie, my ten-year-old mind struggled to understand why anyone would want to kill the President. The whole world, it seemed, had stopped. Our feelings had shifted from anger and disbelief to a stark, quiet acceptance. Kennedy was gone. There was nothing anyone could do to turn back time and make things right again.

We were about to sit down for our Thanksgiving dinner when Mom called from the kitchen. “Come here. They’re showing Oswald!” We gathered around the TV for our first look at the monster who had killed President Kennedy. There he was, handcuffed and looking surprisingly clean-cut wearing dark corduroy slacks and a pullover sweater. He walked swiftly and with a sense of arrogance, through the basement corridors of the Dallas Police Department, toward a car waiting to take him to the county jail. Then, as we watched, a man wearing a suit and fedora lunged forward. He shot Oswald, point blank, in his stomach. “Mercy!” Grandma exclaimed. We had just witnessed a murder, and although no one felt merciful toward Oswald that day, we were shocked. Stunned. “Enough,” said Mom, turning off the television. "It's Thanksgiving."

We sat down at the dinner table, joined hands, and prayed, “Thank you, Lord, for your many blessings, your faithfulness, and your never-ending love . . .”

*****

Praise the Lord, all you nations;

extol him, all you peoples.

For great is his love toward us,

and the faithfulness of the Lord endures forever.

~Psalm 117:1-2

How To Turn Fuzzy Gratitude Into Heartfelt Gratefulness

“My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts,” says the Lord.
“And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine.”
Isaiah 55:8 (NLT)

When bad things happen, we sometimes assume the role of a therapist psychoanalyzing God. The conversation might go something like this:

“God, it says in Psalm 145 (NLT) verse 3—‘Great is the Lord! He is most worthy of praise. No one can measure His greatness,'

and verses 5–7—‘I will meditate on Your majestic, glorious splendor . . . Everyone will share the story of your wonderful goodness.’

Verse 18 says—‘The Lord is near to all who call on Him.’

So, God, if You are so great and good, and if You are near when we ask for help, then why do You allow bad things to happen?”

And God answers, “But you don’t understand!”

During this month of Thanksgiving, I want to challenge you to look at God from David’s perspective in Psalm 145. Keep in mind that David’s life was filled with trouble. Saul wanted to murder him, he ran away, hid in caves, and went without food. After he became king, David lost a child, his best friend was killed, his enemies tried to overthrow him, and his own son tried to kill him. Certainly, David asked why, and in doing so he learned to change the way he thought about God.

Read the second part of verse 3. Here David tells us that no one is able to psychoanalyze God. There are no answers to our why questions, because we humans cannot begin to understand God’s thoughts. God does not behave according to our rules. So, instead of asking why, David accepts that God is too great for the human mind to understand, and he chooses to praise His greatness.

In verses 5–7, understanding that he can’t comprehend God’s thoughts, David meditates on God’s Creation. He concentrates on what his human mind is able to comprehend as good. He finds so many awesome things, that he says to God, "Everyone will be talking about how great You are!”

Then, in verse 18, David shares his belief that God is near to those who trust Him. He has learned through his own experiences that

1. believers should accept God for who He is and praise Him in all circumstances;

2. when it is hard to praise God in bad times, it helps believers to concentrate on God’s goodness as they are able to comprehend it; and

3. when believers do these two things, God draws nearer to them.

Has this been a bad year for you? Are you half-heartedly thanking God during this season of gratefulness? Then try this: spend from now through Thanksgiving looking at God from David’s perspective. See if God draws near to you and transforms your fuzzy gratitude into heartfelt gratefulness.

Three Things Cancer Taught Me About God

For with God nothing will be impossible
Luke 1:37 (NKJV)

Last year, I was diagnosed with uterine cancer. I am one of the lucky survivors who had surgery and was done with it. No radiation or chemotherapy needed, just quarterly checkups. I had been cancer free for 15 months, and then, two weeks ago, I went for my annual mammogram. They found something. The doctor was reasonably sure that it was a new cancer. I faced more tests, and while I waited for the results I felt at peace. So different from last year. This time, I waited meditating on how God has used cancer to teach me about Him. Here are a few things I’ve learned.

1. God wants us to fight against fear.

To fear cancer and its treatment, to fear the idea that it might kill me, is not God’s will. Instead, He desires that I be self-disciplined enough to use His power in me to reject Satan’s cruel what-if’s and death threats. I have learned to push fear away because fear shuts God out. When we learn to shut Satan out, we receive God’s peace that passes all understanding. For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline. (2 Timothy 1:7)

2. God heals our cancers.

The unknown is whether He will heal them here on Earth, or if healing will come in heaven. Most of us don’t want to die. I don’t. We have our good reasons to stay here. But God’s plan for our lives is greater and better than ours. I have learned to accept that God knows best. Always! I think of death now as similar to the way a baby is born, coming out of the darkness of the womb into the light. When I die someday, I will be reborn from the dark tunnel of death into the light of eternal life. The transition may be uncomfortable, but it also must be uncomfortable for a baby to come through the birth canal into life. Weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning. (Psalm 30:5)

3. God wants us to choose our feelings wisely.

Yes, we have the ability to choose our feelings. My mother died of leukemia. Throughout her illness, she inspired us through her faith and gratitude. She lived each day appreciating all of God’s little gifts—a bird singing, white clouds floating through a cerulean sky, a child’s laughter, an hour without pain. Mom told me, “When I wake up in the morning, I say, ‘Thy will be done, and when I go to bed at night, I say, ‘Thank you.’” Through my mother’s cancer and my own, I have learned to praise God in all circumstances. Praising Him allows me to live joyfully and focus on His gifts instead of my disease. Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. (1 Thessalonians 5:18)

The list of what God has taught me through cancer is long. Maybe I will share more about this with you someday. But the three big things are fight fear, believe that you will be healed, and concentrate every day, every minute, every hour, on God’s gracious gifts.

On Thursday, I got my biopsy results. Negative. Praise God, I remain cancer free. But now I know that if I ever face cancer again, God has taught me a new way to cope: His way—the best way.